torg 01 - Storm Knights (7 page)

He turned the key, hoping to hear the engine turn over. Or cough. Or sputter.

All he heard was Wilson's insistent snoring, and the hammering rain.

Dykstra sighed and leaned back in the seat. He let his eyes close, let the sound of the rain lull him to sleep. Time passed, and the sounds changed. Dykstra's eyes blinked open. The rain had stopped, but the day was still dark and gray. Wilson was still asleep beside him, snoring away.

But outside, something was happening in the clouds. Dykstra watched as the clouds roiled. Then they split open and something fell from the sky. It was a plant of some sort. It grew out of the clouds, its vines and tendrils twisting, intertwining, snaking their way toward the ground. Finally the roots struck home, shattering the pavement of the highway to seek the soft dirt beneath.

The sergeant wasn't aware that this plant bridge was much smaller than the one that landed in Queens. He didn't know that others just like it had sprouted from the sky throughout a three hundred mile triangle that stretched east and north from New York City. He didn't understand that huge numbers of lizard men and dinosaurs were even now pouring down those many bridges, spreading their forces, taking control.

Dykstra and Wilson were sent to find out what their units would have to face in the silent zone. Now Dykstra knew, even if he couldn't warn his unit. He was trapped in the silent zone, cut off from communications.

The dinosaurs swept down the plant bridge, an unending force of armored lizards and winged reptiles. One of the larger beasts noticed the tiny jeep. The creature was tall and stood on its hind legs. It flailed a spiked tail behind it and snapped its powerful jaws. Then it moved, more quickly than Dykstra expected, and closed the distance between the bridge and the jeep with great, powerful strides.

"Wilson," the sergeant said, shaking the sleeping corporal. "Wake up, Wilson."

"What? What's the . my God!" Wilson started screaming then, and Dykstra immediately regretted his action. Perhaps he should have left the corporal asleep.

Then the great beast ripped through the canvas roof. Dykstra raised his pistol toward the snapping maw. He pulled the trigger once, twice, three times. But, like the jeep and the radio, the pistol didn't work.

A wave of disappointment rushed through the sergeant. Not that he expected the pistol to stop the monster, but he did want the satisfaction of shooting it before it killed him. Then the jaws snapped over him, plucking him from the jeep. His screams joined Wilson's, but the screams didn't last long.

Bravo and Charlie Companies joined up where 415 and 17 met, just outside of Kanona. They had not heard from the reconnaissance units, so they proceeded cautiously. But they did proceed.

When the soldiers had gone another fifteen miles, they spotted the enemy. Through binoculars and with naked eyes, the National Guard units studied the shapes on the horizon. There were giant lizards and reptiles of all descriptions. The creatures were ranged in a deep line that stretched to each side and as far back as the soldiers could see. They shook in place, excitedly swaying back and forth. But they made no sounds.

The radio man called in their position, describing the scene before him. He could hear the skepticism on the other end, but he proceeded with his report anyway. He told them about the dinosaurs.

The National Guardsmen checked their weapons. On command, they started forward. Then the storm began.

The rain swept from behind the dinosaurs, soaking the soldiers with pelting drops of dark water. Behind the rain, following in its wake, was a wave of glowing energy. It rolled over the soldiers, knocking them to the ground as it passed on.

In the first moments after the reality storm, a number of the soldiers began to change. They became brutal, bestial, more Neanderthal than homo sapiens. They tore at their uniforms and howled out their savage passions. The lizard men roared out an answer, letting their hissing voices join those of the transformed soldiers. Then the lizards slithered forward, and the attack began.

The soldiers who didn't succumb to the reality storm were confused. But they composed themselves as best they could and readied their weapons. They pulled triggers and tossed grenades. Except for an occasional gun burst, the modern weapons did not respond.

Some of the men hefted their useless weapons as clubs. Some continued to pull on triggers that did not respond. Others turned and ran.

None of them escaped the lizard men.

20

The world called Kadandra never ceased to amaze Thratchen. He walked its neon streets beneath its neon signs, just another face in the crowd. As long as he kept his hat pulled low and his rain coat closed tight, they took no notice of him. They called him and his kind Sims, beings who were similar to the people of Kadan-dra. Beings who operated under a similar reality.

But the Sims were from another dimension. And they wanted this world and its energy for themselves.

Thratchen paused in a dark alley, cloaking himself in deep shadows. He rolled the right sleeve of his coat up to his elbow, exposing a metallic arm. Two taps on his right wrist, and a small flap of thin metal snapped open, revealing a tiny screen and input port. He connected his left pinky jack into the port and the screen came to life, displaying alien markings on its luminated face.

Time was passing faster than he anticipated. He had so much to do, and he was among the last of the Sims still on Kadandra. These people were fighters, he had to admit. They were ready for Thratchen's master. When the maelstrom bridges crashed across the dimensions, they found warriors prepared to fight off the raiders, not sheep ripe for conquest as was the usual case. The Gaunt Man would not be pleased by the master's failure here. For it meant that the master would be delayed from rendezvousing with the other High Lords on the world called Earth.

But Thratchen decided he would win at least a small victory for his master. If he had to be trapped upon this world, he would make the most of it. He would find the little brat that warned of the raiders' coming. He would find her, and have his revenge.

He checked his screen once more and read the name that appeared there.

"Dr. Hachi Mara-Two."

He would make her death a slow one, that he promised his far-away master.

21

Coyote led Bryce to the entrance of the Lincoln Tunnel. Stalled vehicles were here and there, but because of the time of day when the storm hit, there were far less than there could have been. There were no people around, but Bryce felt as though he were being watched. He shook the notion and examined the tunnel's entrance. The dark, lightless maw was uninviting, and it only added to his unease.

"Kind of like walking into a lion's mouth," commented Rat.

Coyote turned to the priest. "You saved me back there. And you saved Rat. I owe you, Father."

Bryce shook his head. "No, Coyote, you don't owe me a thing. You have done more for me than I would have expected. If you don't want to go any further, I will not try to talk you into it."

The priest sat down heavily upon a concrete curb. His sigh was loud, pained.

"What's the matter, Father," Rat asked as he sat beside the priest.

"I never hit a man before," Bryce said in a quavering voice, "especially not with such violent intent. My God, I may have killed him!" He buried his face in his hands and wept.

"But Father Bryce, you saved Coyote and me. If you didn't hit that spaced out dude, we'd both be pretty dead right now."

"That doesn't excuse my actions, Rat. It only makes them necessary."

"Father Bryce, we got company," Coyote whispered, trying not to move suddenly or give on that he had noticed anything out of the ordinary.

The priest looked up and let his eyes follow the tilt of the teen's head. There, perched upon the tunnel's arch, was a winged reptile. It observed them warily, its yellow eyes upon them. Bryce stood slowly, and the reptile spread feathered wings. It squawked once, twice. Its call was answered by a cacophony of similar squawks and the beating of dozens of pairs of wings. More of the reptiles appeared in the sky, swooping down to land upon the retaining walls that surrounded the tunnel entrances.

"Come on, boys," Bryce urged, "we have to get out of here."

"What are they, Father?" Rat asked. Coyote could hear the fear in his voice.

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is we reach the tunnel. Then we'll be safe."

"Will we, Father Bryce?" Coyote questioned as more of the reptile birds landed around them. "Will we?"

Bryce had no answer for the young man. He only had a goal. "Run for the tunnel. Now."

She was calm, peaceful. The pain was gone. She had left it behind her, along with the fear, back in a place that was nothing more than a fading memory.

She tried to focus on where she was now, but nothing was familiar. She was floating, alone, in a featureless area. But it was warm, serene. The danger was past, she knew that, but she could not remember what the danger was.

There was sound, music of some sort. Majestic, she thought, the music was majestic. And beautiful, so beautiful. She could float here forever, she decided. It was so different from the fading place, so comfortable.

But the comfort was short lived. Another sound began, drowning out the music with its awful buzzing. She tried to block it out, but the buzzing was insistent, penetrating. Suddenly it became the worst pain she had ever experienced, even worse than what she had left behind.

She became aware of something else then, a dark space nearby. It drifted closer, touching her, pawing her with coldness that brushed away the warmth. The darkness smelled of carrion, and she tried to push it off. Tendrils of darkness brushed lingeringly across her eyes, blinding her. Wisps of the stuff entered her nose and mouth, choking her, gagging her with their cloying, foul sweetness.

The dark space flowed in front of her, around her, tripping her, slowing her aimless travel. A breeze blew gently from within the dark space, filling her senses with images of deep, damp earth strongly spiced with bits and pieces of decomposing vegetation.

The dark space became a tunnel, and she felt herself drifting through it, into it, falling. She screamed, but the sound was lost among other echoes. These were the vibrations of memory, echoes of a life that was and was no more. Then the descent began. She was dropping, faster and faster, rushing through the dark tunnel toward a destination she could not fathom.

As she whipped through the darkness, she felt clinging cobwebs tear away. She caught glimpses of dark figures, shadowy forms that she thought she recognized. But they seemed angry, vengeful, reaching for her as she flew past. Still she fell, moving at a speed she never experienced before. It was exhilirating and frightening at the same time.

Then she saw a light. It seemed out of place in the dark space, dim. But it quickly grew ineffably clear. It was brilliant, compelling. It was the source of warmth and peace, and as she drew closer the coldness of the dark space receded and was gone. Then the falling stopped.

Ahead of her was the light. Beyond the light, as compelling in its own way, the dark space loomed, continuing on toward its deep source. The light sparkled, and she imagined a gentle smile. But the dark space reached out with its spidery wisps, and she started to drift again, caught in its unrelenting pull.

"No," she said, but wondered why not as the pull weakened.

"Not yet," she said, and the light increased its brilliance and she knew that this was so.

For the moment, the pull had ceased.

23

Alder drove the van as fast as he could while still being able to navigate around the semi-blocked streets. The two unlikely companions rode in silence; Alder had long since stopped trying to make conversation with the lizard man, and not even static could be coaxed out of the van's radio.

The police officer ignored the sights beyond the van's windows. He focused all of his concentration on the task at hand. It was like driving on an obscene obstacle course. Not only did Alder have to deal with the stalled cars, he had to avoid transformed pedestrians and the occasional dinosaur that ran into the road — or stood over it. But at least he had a goal now, and a method for achieving that goal.

"Hang on, Tal Tu," he said, more just to hear a voice than to inform the lizard. "I think you'll like New Jersey. It's probably a lot like wherever it is you're from."

They finally reached the turn off. Alder slowed even more. The turn onto the Lincoln Tunnel approach was tricky under normal conditions; with unmoving cars hidden around the blind curve, it was downright hazardous.

"Deliksss, Rick Alder," Tal Tu rasped as they completed the turn. Alder pressed down on the brake and brought the van to a halt.

Winged reptiles covered the approach all the way to the tunnel entrances. Each creature was about four feet tall, with snakelike bodies and large, feathered wings. Each had long, skinny legs which ended in sharp talons. They had no arms, but two venomous fangs dripped from their small snake heads.

Alder turned to look at Tal Tu, who was curled up in the back of the van. The gray cat was resting in the lizard man's lap.

"Deliks?" he asked.

"Deliksss," Tal Tu answered.